What will pass?
by Lanny-Sama
Summary: This is a fan-characters only fanfiction. Accepting character entries now, read the rules inside. ( Summary and first chapter subject to change. )
1. Rules

**What will pass? **

_Explanation:_  
This will be a short story including ONLY fan characters of the Don't Starve game. Maxwell gets a few mentions I'm guessing, but the canon characters of Don't Starve will not appear. I'll be doing this as a writing exercise and for my own fun, so once it stops being fun, the story ends.

_Important notes:  
_1) I will accept a limited amount of characters, and it is my own choice which ones I use for the story. You may send in as many characters as you like.  
2) When sending in a character, know that I will make my own interpretation of your character, and that he/she might not be the exact ways you would have liked. If there is no downside to a character, I will give him/her one.  
3) You can NOT suggest a sudden change in plot. However, if you dislike the way I treat/write your character, I will write him/her out of the story for you.  
4) It is up to me to decide how the story ends, and which characters would fit into the story I have in mind.  
5) When describing your character's personality, please use the LEAST amount of words possible!  
6) Characters that have powers that do not fit into the DS world will only be used after their powers have been changed to something more DS-fitting.

Now that that is all out of the way, here is a sample sheet of what you can use to describe your character. The open spaces with a * are optional, and can be ignored if there is nothing to be said there.

Name:  
Age*:  
Looks:  
Personality:  
Stats/special power*: ((if not given, character will be default Wilson stats or will be given powers by me))  
Mood: ((when he/she finds out that they are in the DS world, are they frightened, agressive, angry, sad, despairnig, happy? As short as possible please.))

**If there are not enough characters I feel would fit into the story, I will not continue this story and this chapter shall be deleted. **

I'm looking forward to seeing those characters! ~ Lanny


	2. It starts with a girl named Waylon

It happened in multiple places at once, as it always does, and always will do. Every year, day, hour minute... People went missing. Some by accident, some by planned crime, and some... some find the archipelago. It was never given an official name, because not a single person who named it was able to leave and tell another human being of their discovery. Still, the door to the archipelago opened and welcomed new people inside, the exit non-existent.

A mere skeleton of a man remained on his throne, watching as the unreachable entrance brought yet another batch of poor victims to the islands, throwing them each on their own little island in the archipelago. The king on his nightmare throne does not watch the new arrivals, nor does he care that, for the first time, all of them landed on a single island.

In a grassy plain, Waylon jolts awake. The sun shines in her face, and she groans, lifting a hand to shield her eyes. What had happened? She pushes herself to a sitting position, and looks around. Grass, chopped trees, flowers, bees... and horned rabbits. She stares at the little critter, and pinches herself in the arm. The rabbit only raises its ears at her and sniffs the air cautiously.

"This- this can't be right." She pinches herself harder, but the world before her refuse to disappear. The grass stabs into her legs through her black stockings, and a warm summer wind blows through her heavy black dress. No snow on crooked black roofs, no bare trees and roasted-chestnut-stalls... She jumps up, and frantically starts searching her dress. Notebook, pocketwatch, handkerchief... Gone! Her hand brushes wood, and she pulls out a single item; an old panflute. Her name is scratched on it in a childish sprawl, and one of the pipes is cracked.

"I... What...my panflute?... What is this?!" She turns around, but the fields are empty, and the deep compelling voice that had lured her here has no reply for her. "Where are you?! This is not what you promised!..." Again, nobody answers, and the sun slowly continues its travel towards the West. Waylon rages at nobody in particular, and a flurry of rabbits hurry to the safety of their burrows. When she calms, nothing has changed, and she's still in the wilderness with nothing but her dress and her panflute. She stares westward, and starts to follow the sun. Maybe, if she walks long enough... she'll find her way back home.

It feels like only a few hours have passed, when the sun starts sinking below the horizon, colouring the world a strange red hue. Waylon frowns as she eats a handful of berries she picked along the way. Something is not right... A soft rushing reaches her ears, and her attention is drawn away from the setting sun. She stands at the edge of the island, the rocky ground beneath her feet suddenly stopping and disappearing in the eerily sloshing waves of a dark ocean. She stands on her toes, and squints, but there is only sea, as far as she can see. The last bit of sunlight disappears, and all of a sudden it dawns on her what is so wrong with the island. There is not a single star to light her way.

A sudden panic grabs hold of her, and she drops to her knees, yanking out dry grass wherever she can find it, and plucking twigs from a tiny little sapling. She threw it to the ground, and started to rub the two twigs together, hoping to elicit a spark in time. The darkness that starts falling over her is unnatural, and as the sun completely disappears, there's not even a light smoldering on the sticks.

Waylon grits her teeth, and rubs the sticks together as fast as she can. A soft hiss rings in her ear, and she freezes at the horrid sound, twigs still unlit in her hands. The hissing rings louder, changing into a husky screech as she jumps up and makes a mad dash away from the thing she provoked.

Sharp points puncture her dress, pushing through her skin, and she screams. The darkness retreats, and she falls to the rocky ground. The monster is nowhere, the air is empty around her, and there is not a single sound telling of its whereabouts. She forces herself upright, blood sticking to her hands and leaving prints on the stone beneath her. A weapon, bandages, light! Anything!

"H...help!" Crying out for help was the best she could manage, but there was little hope that anyone would come. A wolf howls, and Waylon imagines she can hear the pitter-patter of paws on stone, right before the hissing returns. With all her strength, she elbows the creature trying to bite her, only for her attack to hit air. There is nothing there to attack, but the teeth feel all too real.

A bright light sails through the air, and lands on top of her, yipping wildly. The teeth are gone in a mere instant, and finally Waylon's sight returns.

The biggest dog she's ever seen lies on top of her, with a burning fire on its back and panic in its eyes. Rough claws get caught in her dress, and the panicking dog-wolf falls on its side, the fire on it's back whipping back and forth crazily. It yowls and barks, as the fire from it's back set the grass alight, and her dress makes a ripping sound as the hound pulls itself loose from her dress.

"AUGH!" The dog sprints off as soon as it's on its feet, howling loudly with its back still alight, and Waylon is left in the grass, tufts of grass burning away around her. A huge dog! A huge dog ON FIRE! Waylon shivered, and held her side, where the wounds from the thing in the dark are bleeding. This place was getting much too weird. Much too weird to be anywhere near home. "What... What the hell... What is going on?!"

"Hello." The voice comes so unexpected that she nearly bites her tongue, and she swivels around to find the source of the voice. A tall thing stands near her, a lit torch in its thin hand, and a hundred feathers all over its body. The small fires in the grass go out with a small hiss, and the darkness envelops her and the strange newcomer, with only the torchlight as a shield. Waylon just stares at it, and tries to believe in her sanity.

"H-hello?..." She's trapped in the dark, wounded, and seeing a large thin bird-man. Greeting it almost feels natural. The weird feathery thing crouches down next to her, and puts the torch on the ground, the grass blades hissing in protest. A mess of sticky and sweet bandages that smell of honey are pushed into her hands, and beady little eyes stare at her from within the feather-heap.

"Bandage, and don't let the light go out. The dark doesn't like the light." Waylon looks at the mess in her hands, and then at the thing in front of her. It only stares back. Waylon turns her back to him, and carefully lifts up her dress to apply the bandages. Honey mingles with blood, and the tough bandages stick to her skin. It doesn't ease the pain, and she groans.

"What is this stuff?..."

"Honey and papyrus. Wax and papyrus. Poultice." A hound howls in the distance, and the featherball sits down near the torch, its stilt-like legs disappearing into the feathery mass. "You are dressed prettily." Waylon doesn't pay attention to the compliment, and presses a little on the wet bandages.

"Uhm... Just to get this out of the way. What- Who are you?"

"Wailt."

Waylon stares at it -him?-, and then at the torch. "Did you... did you light that dog on fire?" Wailt just looks at his torch, and then back at her.

"No. Dogs don't taste good. It was already on fire." Waylon raises an eyebrow, and plucks some twigs out of her hair. A dog on fire running by in pure panic, closely followed by a freaky man-bird with a hot torch? She doesn't ask about it. There are more important things than dogs on fire.

"Wailt. Where am I?"

The birdman just nods enthusiastically, and he stands up on his thin little legs. The torchlight shows black bird claws at the end. Waylon pinches herself again, and Wailt speaks.

"It'll be day soon, black bird." Almost as soon as he says it, the sun shoots up, nearly blinding her with all the sudden light. Wailt marches off in long strides, leaving his torch still burning on the ground near Waylon.

**A/N: So, this was pretty messy, to my standards. Don't know what you guys think about it, but... Yanno, I plan to use elements from this chapter in upcoming chapters. Also, Multiple POV's maybe? We'll see, we'll see. Hope you enjoyed this! **


	3. White, Waylon and Wailt

**What will pass? **

Waylon is left alone by the weird bird man, and she forces herself to her feet. Her hopes of getting home are now truly gone. A place where the sun could set in mere seconds... it is not earth. She is no longer on earth.

_A whole new plane of existance, far above anything you could imagine... Immortality, power, magic... All within your grasp, if you come here for a visit._

The deep bass voice resounds in her head, and she gently holds her hand over her wounded side. It should have been obvious really, that it was a trap. But still, why? What was the voice trying to gain? …. She squints up at the sky, and finds the sun already rising to its highest peak. Waylon shudders, and she starts walking, picking up all the dry leaves, grass and twigs she can find. Still, twigs would probably not cut it for long... The torch Wailt left on the ground goes out with a small hiss.

Something howls, right in the direction the bird-man had marched off to, and Waylon decides not to follow the bird man... She fuidgets a little with one of the bandages on her wound, and looks back at the woods. Wailt definitely isn't normal, not from earth. Was he the kind of creature that brought her here?... His voice doesn't match but... there could be others of him... Another loud howl sounds from the distance, only to be cut short in the middle. Asking Wailt the bird-man would have to wait. Waylon sits down and starts wrapping dry grass around one of the more thicker branches. This time, she'd have a light LONG before night fell. She'd make sure of it.

White wakes with a jolt, and squints his eyes shut at the mid-day sun. Swampy marsh-ground lies thick under him, and spiked trees claw at the morning sky. It's only for a short moment that he wonders what happened, and then he remembers. A white chess-piece, the pawn, feels cold in the palm of his hand, and he mutters disbelievingly under his breath.

"I'm in the second realm... but that wasn't the deal... I won! Maxwell?" Maxwell doesn't speak, and White scans around for the deity painting. The artwork is nowhere to be found, nor is anything resembling it. Maxwell is absent, but White knows from the deity himself that in the second realm, Maxwell could see everything. White stands up, and wipes his muddy hands on his pants. Maybe his prize could only be given in the second realm?... "Well Maxwell, where is my prize?"

The swamp gurgles and rumbles in response, and White swallows a lump in his throat. He puts the white pawn in his pocket, and hesitantly starts walking in the direction of the woods.

"Maxwell? Where did you bring me? No, never mind, I know where you brought me... Why did you bring me here?" The god doesn't answer him, and a frog croaks loudly in the distance, "Is there something more I need to do? Does it have to do with this pawn?!" Again there is no answer but the continuing rumble of the swamp, and White curses. "Where are you Maxwell?! We had a deal!"

Almost in answer to his yell, the swamp-ground bulges, and a spiked purple tentacle lashes out at him, whipping him savagely across the face. White is flung onto his back, and the marsh cushions his landing with a squelch. The tentacle waves through the air, preparing for a second strike, and White barely manages to roll onto his side when the lethal whip comes down right where he was laying.

He scrambles upright, still clenching the useless white pawn, and runs off. The entire swamp seems to come alive with the tentacles, and the ground sinks and rises beneath his feet like waves of the sea. He can feel the spiked whips barely missing his head and back as he sprints towards the woods, and his feet sink away in the soft ground. He only barely reaches the looming woods, still running and splattered with mud. Maxwell and the white pawn are completely forgotten in his mad dash. In the end it's a portruding root that ends his frantic flight, leaving him gasping on the forest floor.

A bird tweets happily, and a bunny peeks out from between the trees. The ground no longer rumbles, and a soft breeze makes the trees sway back and forth softly. Gasping for breath, White sits up. He touches his cheek with a trembling hand, and his hands come back red and wet. "Maxwell?... God?..." The deity with the deep voice continues his silence, and a wolf howls menacingly in the distance. White stand up on shaking legs and wipes the blood from his cheeks. Never anger a deity, never, ever, ever.

He spots a dark shadow in the corner of his eye, and swivels around to see the new threat. There's nothing there. An echoing hiss resounds right over his shoulder, and the shivers run down his spine. The white pawn in his pocket feels hot and heavy, and he holds it tightly in his fist.

He wipes some dripping blood from his chin, and picks up a few sticks. The sun lowers as he works, and White searches the ground for a few pieces of flint. A few pieces of dry grass and sparks later, a tiny fire burns. He picks up a few extra twigs for fuel, and crouches near the sun falls below the horizon, and the entire world becomes pitch-black. White sits huddled near his burning little pile, and waits for the day to come.

He can hear that same whisper from before, now hoarse and quiet, roaming through the dark. It doesn't sound like a man at all, nor does it sound like a God. The white pawn feels heavy in his pocket. "Maxwell?..." The whisper dies away and White is left alone near his little pile of burning wood.

Waylon puts another handful of grass on the roaring fire in front of her. A large pile of flammable stuff lies nearby, and the shadows of the trees flicker wildly as the big campfire forces them away. The night would not take long anymore, but Waylon was not about to take any more risks! She takes a berry from her pocket and eats it. It's the only food she's found so far, but at least she found SOME sort of food... And she could always try to lick the honey off the bandages... As a last resort, maybe, VERY maybe.

She takes out her panflute, and puts it to her lips. One of the tones sounds more like whispering wind due to a cracked pipe, but she manages a hesitant little tune. She waits for a moment, looks around, but nothing happens. Just her old panflute, no magic, no nothing. She grabs another handful of grass and throws strand after strand onto the fire.

"I need to get out of here..." The next morning however, would be dedicated to finding food. And more wood to keep fire going... .And maybe, if there was time left, finding that bird-man.

Said person sits huddled near a tiny little fire, carefully binding a red feather onto a bird-like walking cane. Opposite of him lies a hound, nearly in the dark, with a pair of softly burning wings on its back. The hound carefully tilts its head, as if trying to ask something, but Wailt pays it no mind. He brings the cane close to his head, and stares at the hound for a long while.

"We'll see."

**A/N: this was chapter 2. I hope you all enjoyed it! **


End file.
